


History of American Fisheries

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: Sam accidentally walks into the wrong lecture. AU. The one where they are all at University.





	History of American Fisheries

Jack notices there is a young woman in the middle of his introductory History of the American Fisheries class who looks absolutely lost. She is not one of the three types of HAF students: she is not an Environmentalist, she is definitely not a Historian, and she does not look like she is one of his Agri students. No, she is thoroughly lost, and is desperately pretending to take notes.

The notes would be unnecessary, because this class is recorded, and really, if she ducks her face in embarrassment one more time, he thinks maybe he is going to laugh.

The two dozen faces in the room are as disinterested as he is used to seeing.

Jack continues explaining the formulation of fishery management systems and the need for yearly updates, and sees the exact moment her panic changes to indignation, and then interest.

Something he said has set off the young Engineer student.

“Ms? Do you disagree for the need for sustainable fisheries?” He asks her. He expects her to slink further into her chair, but is pleasantly surprised to find that she sits up straighter.

“I think that the cause/effect is not properly explained as part of the implementation.”

“You think we need more education based initiatives?”

“From what you have said so far, yes.”

“And from what you have learnt already through this course?” Jack baits, knowing that if he grins at her now, all will be over. The rest of the class has started paying attention, too. Like sharks sensing blood in the water.

“I, I think that it should be an essay question so that I can put the answer to you more fully.”

“Excellent suggestion Ms?” He pauses for her name.

“Carter. Sam.”

“Thank you Ms Carter. I look forward to reading that very topic on your final essay. Stay back to discuss it with me.” Busted.

She spends the rest of her class hiding behind her laptop, and Jack suspects she is fervently typing into a group chat somewhere of her predicament. He thinks maybe he will even get Daniel to do some twitter searching for him just to see if the #wrongclass tag is still trending for the students of the University of Minnesota.

Whatever the response she is getting, he can see her blush intensify. He has never been this intrigued by any of the lost souls who accidentally end up in HAF; except perhaps Daniel and they were friends already.

He expects her to run, after the class, but Sam comes up to him, stranding straight, and says “Sir, I’m not actually in this class.”

“Really, Ms Carter?”

“Yes.”

“Shame.”

—

Jack is surprised to see her in HAF at the next lecture, a fresh copy of the “Teach a Man to Fish by J. O’Neill” book on her lap. With tabs. He had never seen his work tabbed before.

The class is focused today on the marketing of yellowfin tuna as dolphin safe, something that the Environmentalists amongst his students feel very aggrieved over. Carter seems fascinated with the systems behind it all, and looks to be the only person to have done the reading in the class since the early 2010s.

“Do you find that there is a shift away from a non-environmentalist perspective in the later discourse?” she asks him, and Jack can honestly say that he had never met a person more interested in fish.

“I think there needs to be an environmentalist approach, of course, but you are correct, there is a cultural and economic need to be looked at, although I am not sure at this point that it can ever be truly separated.”

Jack watches her nod at that, and then stick a further tab (this one a new colour) into the book.

Half an hour later, and he is watching her exit the class. He orders an updated student list, and to his great surprise, his class list does not have “S Carter” anywhere on it.

—

Six weeks of discussing the implications of the need for culturally sensitive legalisation for the indigenous peoples of North American in light of the environmental impact of commercial fisheries and it is time for the mid semester break. Carter has been to all his classes, twelve 1 hour lectures in which Jack thought maybe the two of them were simply having a conversation in front of the rest of the HAF students.

He invites them out for a drink, as he always does, at this point in the semester. Daniel, and a few of his previous students come, and a few of the Agri guys, like they do every year. And Carter.

She has a wicked glimmer in her eye and what Jack realises is a bike jacket over one arm. She doesn’t drink, but plays pool like a shark. He is $30 down before he realises it, and she offers to buy him a beer with her winnings.

Daniel is already three sheets to the wind and T, one of his old Agri students, is packing him politely away into the cab of Jack’s truck.

“Can’t, I need to take sleeping beauty over there home.”

“I will drive DanielJackson home, O’Neill, if you give me the keys.”

Carter is raising an eyebrow at him, and Jack knows this is a terrible idea, but he throws his keys to T, and turns back to her.

She buys him a Porter, one of the newer more hipster brews with rich molasses and the taste of dark vanilla on his tongue. She offers another game, but Jack isn’t foolish.

“You’re plying me with drink to get me to part with more cash. Not going to happen, Carter.”

“A girl needs to pay for her student loans.” She laughs.

“What degree are you doing anyway? Engineering?”

“Finishing up my second physics dissertation.” Sam says.

“Hypothesis?”

“After many hours of research I have discovered gravity is in fact real.”

“Genius! Wait, should I be calling you Dr Carter?”

“Please don’t. That’s my mother. Mom is an Airforce Doctor.”

“And dad?”

“General Carter is also in the Airforce.”

“A general’s daughter, I think I need to go home.”

Sam laughs “You forgot, I’m your ride home.” She leans forward, and Jack sneaks a glance down her top. A dark green bra cups her breasts and Jack imagines matching lace. Trouble. Worse, he realises he enjoys watching her laugh, her smile lights up the room.

“How come you ended up teaching Agri?”

“Busted my knees in the Airforce. Couldn’t go back to hockey, either. I was halfway through my Masters for the promotion to Colonel. I finished it in rehab. They promoted me the week before my discharge. So I stayed on.”

“Wife, kids?”

“Is there anything you don’t need to know, Carter?”

“Is this on a need to know basis?”

“When I drive you home, is Mrs O’Neill going to come out in tears holding little Johnny?” Jack laughed. He couldn’t help it, she was like a breath of fresh air.

“Divorced. No kids. Mrs O’Neill is my mother and she lives in Ireland now.”

“Good.”

“What do you have against my mother?” he asks, following her out of the bar and towards her bike.

Sam hands him a spare helmet, and then hooks her leg over the gorgeous Indian he had seen parked on Campus.

“Have you done this before?” She asks.

“Gone home with a student? Never.”

“Are you coming home with me, are you?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Bike.”

“Yes, Carter. I’ve been on a bike before.”

“Try and hold on.” she says. The feel of her warmth, and the powerful motor beneath them is going to fuel Jack’s fantasises for years to come.

“Woman, you are a maniac.” He exclaims, as she takes a particularly sharp corner. He also realises there is no way to navigate and she has no idea where he lives. The hills wind, and Jack enjoys the darkness. He has his hands splayed over her stomach, holding on tight, and if he was not wearing the helmet, he would have buried his face into the softness between her neck and shoulder.

Sam pulls over in front of a building near the campus, takes off her helmet and looks at him. The look in her eyes is all sex and woman.

“I’m not your student.” She says.

“You never did enrol.”

“No. Want to come home with me?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

“Come on then. I live upstairs.”

“Cheeky.” But he follows her. He would follow that smile anywhere.

 

 


End file.
